


Overnights Aren't Standard

by Ametistina



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: But Not Drunk the First Time, Drunk Sex, Episode Tag, F/M, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-23
Updated: 2013-11-23
Packaged: 2018-01-02 10:17:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1055595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ametistina/pseuds/Ametistina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spoilers below for 1.08, "The Well." Post-episode.</p><p> </p><p>They haven’t drunk much of the Scotch, as it turns out. Didn’t even crack the bottle until after the first time, at which point they both wanted a drink.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Overnights Aren't Standard

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, I wasn't expecting to like this pairing so much.

They haven’t drunk much of the Scotch, as it turns out. Didn’t even crack the bottle until after the first time, at which point they _both_ wanted a drink.

May is sitting up in bed, propped by pillows and drinking whatever designer bottled water the hotel left on her nightstand. Ward, still fast asleep, is draped across the middle of the bed, half-covered by a sheet, and he's holding one of her ankles in a surprisingly warm grip.

So yeah, the bottle had been more of a prop. A signal, and one that had been received loud and clear.

Planning was the key to being S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent Melinda May—well, that and the bodysuits. She can only be so cool, calm, and in control all the time because she plans—and plans _for_ —everything. Hence her perfect timing, arriving at the door to her room just as he arrived at his, all thanks to a bit of discreet tracking. She’d pulled the Scotch from the supply on the bus before they alighted this morning. And she’d made certain that their rooms were on the same floor, in the same hallway.

It wasn’t the first time. The bus driver often finds occasion to arrange things.

She had wondered, hours earlier, if Skye were going to disrupt her plans—but of course, she planned for that as well. Personally May doesn’t see it, Ward and Skye, but it's pretty clear that Skye does. And if May had been wrong, if Skye were the one being treated to the sight of a naked Ward sprawled across her bed? Well, it’s not like May could blame her.

Glancing over at him, she almost feels like it’s the eighties again and she should be smoking a cigarette … because _goddamn_ , that had been perfect. Maybe good enough for an encore, assuming all parties are amenable.

The first time had been rough, quick and barely controlled, both of them still humming slightly with rage and adrenaline from touching the staff. And then they’d lain there for a while, because Berserker sex was just as exhausting as Berserker fighting. Eventually, Ward opened the whiskey, and they drank it in bed, passing the bottle back and forth between snatches of conversation.

Always very efficient, their communication.

Round two had been very different. Not romantic, exactly, but slow and lingering. Also more lighthearted, and maybe even playful? At some point, Ward made a game of cataloging her scars, rewarding himself by kissing them only if he could identify the weapons responsible. Except Melinda has a lot of scars, and Ward got distracted fast.

She feels a sudden wisp of queasiness in her gut, briefly interrupting the pleasure shimmering everywhere else. Playful, teasing? That hadn’t been part of her plan at all.

Shrugging to herself, she listens for a moment to the sound of Ward’s light, even breathing. Coulson will figure it out; he always does. Hell, he probably knew before they did.

Will there be an encore? More importantly, will this night change the dynamics of the team? Even though Ward is Level 7 too, it’s pretty clear that he’s still just the biggest kid at the kids’ table. And now? How can he possibly still be intimidated by the Cavalry after having undressed her?

Her face darkens for a moment. That fucking nickname.

May takes one last swig of water and firmly sets the bottle on the nightstand. Ward’s eyelids flutter at the sound—good, he’s still sleeping like an agent—and the hand on her ankle tightens, begins to make its way up.

May reaches down to him.


End file.
